


Desert Flowers

by Eblis_OShaugnessy



Category: Fallout: New Vegas, Homestuck
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Basically Vriska and Terezi if they were Christine Royce & Veronica Santangelo, F/F, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Lesbian Yearning, POV Terezi Pyrope, POV Vriska Serket
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 22:04:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20160829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eblis_OShaugnessy/pseuds/Eblis_OShaugnessy
Summary: A Fallout New Vegas & Homestuck crossover detailing the story of the fated lovers Vriska Serket & Terezi Pyrope through the Alternian wasteland, one chasing payback, the other, love. A tale of heartbreak, revenge, regret, passion, some cool robots, some not cool robots, too much sand,and a lot of gay feelings.Credit for the OG idea for this goes to @abraxasgrip on Tumblr.





	Desert Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> I will never lack the passion to love you. I am destined or doomed to be truly yours. 
> 
> \- Stephan Millard

The end came before you realized it.

The cold metal chair leaches the heat from your body while the anticipation and fear of what was coming clouds your mind. You stare at the wall in front of you, unseeing and unfeeling, as you clasp your hands, knuckles white, waiting. The muffled sounds of raised voices sound through the thick metal of the office door, and you grimace as the argument seems to reach a fever pitch. You were told to sit until the time came to discuss your punishment. As you sit, the memories of how this came to pass surface in your mind.

You were eight sweeps old when you first spent time alone together. It was likely that you would be caught; but you tried very hard to keep it hidden. You had known each other tangentially, having grown up on separate sides of the cavernous blastbunker, casting furtive glances across the halls at one another, nursing feelings that could not be expressed freely, nor completely understood. You had both begun training to be scribes at around the same time, having been two of the six total new initiates. A sweep went by uneventfully, simply working alongside one another as peers, but then one night you had been working late, growing increasingly bored alone in one of the lowest levels of the bunker, when she appeared. She claimed she wasn’t able to sleep,and that she wanted to try to catch up on the next cycle’s workload, but by the sly glint in her eye you were pretty certain she had other things in mind. Tedious working became friendly talking, and friendly talking became heartfelt confessing, and then heartfelt confessing became the cramped occupation of a storage closet. It had taken you a perigree for you to realize how much you wanted to do it again.

Your ritual of meeting in discreet locations in the bowels of the bunker became habitual and, eventually, compulsive. She would slip notes under your pillow, confessing how much she wished to be by your side. Lamenting her requirement to perform scribe duties, wishing to show you the world above, walk with you among the lost aspects of civilization that you had been taught to spurn in favor of seclusion and protection. On the rare occasion that they had worked alongside each other, she would layer small things into her speeches to you: small, smirking smiles, pointed glances that made your pusher rise into your neck, gentle, almost imperceptible touches on your shoulder, your arm, that you would feel for days afterward. 

Her personality enchanted you. It became harder and harder to spend time away from her, and you could tell she felt the same about you. You knew that you were becoming more obvious as time went by, and you knew that people would notice. You tried not to care. You would sit at the same table during meals, and talk for hours into the night about your interests. You confessed your budding interest in the arts, and how some days you fantasized about being an old world lawyer, bringing justice to the kind of people who, in truth, truly brought the world to ruin. 

She laughed at that, which stung a little, but only until you noticed her genuine smile at your passion. She told you a day afterward that she had always wished she could have been one of the old pirates of the limitless seas, plundering and exploring for all her life. You smiled as she segued into what she knew about the old greats, those who had been caught, and those who hadn’t. 

You tried to listen, you genuinely did. You just kept getting lost in watching her lips move.

The door opens suddenly, and she is roughly dragged out by two ruffiannihalators, screaming obscenities back into the room through her tears. Her hair is disheveled, her uniform is rumpled and stained with tears and sweat. As she kicks and twists in vain at the guards’ twin grips, her face twists with anger as she glares back into the room. The guards are able to pull her halfway across the chamber before she notices you, and her red-rimmed eyes widen as they meet yours. She takes in your expression, your resignation to what neither you nor she can control, and your wordless apology for the pain that you helped cause. She slumps and turns her face away, and behind the anger in her eyes, behind her clenched teeth, you can see her breaking apart inside, knowing that it was over before it could truly start. She is finally dragged out of the door to the hall, her feet dragging along the grated floors. 

She makes it to the far end of the hallway before the sound of a choked sob brings the first tear to your eye.

You hear that dreaded voice say the words you have been fearing since you sat down, “Enter, initiate.”

You cannot meet his eyes.

His emotionless, pale face casts a veneer of poisonous charm that you have never truly been able to stand. He details your punishment in a calm, orderly manner, but listening to his words and realizing the ramifications of your punishment is too much, so instead you reside in the deepest most protected part of your mind you can find, and automatically reply with an obedient “Yes, elder.” Nevertheless, scraps penetrate your pan as they are laid out before you: You will be separated, she will be assigned to a surface team and trained in a separate portion of the bunker, while you will continue your studies as a scribe. You will grow apart, and you will never be allowed to associate again to the best of his ability. He waxes on about his disappointment in your actions, how he “knows you will see reason after all this” how you will “move on from her bad influence”. He tells you how he knows how much more potential you have, and how she would squander it with her desires. He tells you that there are many eligible men in the bunker, and you begin to feel the walls closing in. You can feel him rewriting your destiny in his mind. 

You can barely think. You feel helpless. You have never felt love so deeply before, and having it taken away has torn something in you.

He dismisses you, and you quietly leave and slowly walk to your respiteblock, wandering the halls as though you were trying to escape a dark, labyrinthine nightmare.

When you finally reach your destination, and the door finally closes behind you, you can’t hold your feelings back anymore. Your heart breaks, and tears soak your only pillow as it sinks in that the only person you have ever loved will never be allowed to love you back.

Your name is TEREZI PYROPE, you are nine sweeps old, and you have never felt more alone in your life.


End file.
